her bed and stared out at the sky as if about to be launched. She was so absorbed in her dreaming it was only the laughter of her fellows that roused her. Pit van Husen was amused; he should never have allowed this undertrained girl into the sky, but an odd, mischievous thought arose in his mind. ‘All right, harness up!’ he shouted, and before Hanna knew it she was in position to be launched into the air.
Hanna took to the skies; she focused on a spot ahead and concentrated all her energy on keeping the glider straight and true. She was in the air for less than forty seconds, but it was enough to convince her that she must spend her life flying. She landed perfectly, having unexpectedly passed the A test for gliding. It was pure chance, of course, the boys yelled. Van Husen was similarly unconvinced. ‘I expect that was just luck. I can’t count it for your A test,’ he said. Then he paused. ‘You had better try it again, straight away.’ Naturally, Hanna flew perfectly and passed the test a second time.
Curiosity now overcame Wolf Hirth. Who was this girl who was in danger of fatally crashing one minute and the next passing her A test without any practical experience? Hirth had to meet her in person. Petite Hanna was neither awe inspiring nor impressive in appearance, but then neither was Wolf Hirth. He was a little on the plump side and very ordinary looking for someone treated as a god of gliding. He liked Hanna almost instantly: she reminded him of himself. Hirth took Hanna under his personal tutelage and soon she was flying and passing her B and C tests. She impressed him so much that he allowed her the privilege of flying the school’s newest glider, one normally reserved for instructors and Hirth. Hanna had permission to stay in the air as long as she pleased; she stayed there for five hours and landed to learn that she had broken the world record. For the first time Hanna’s name was on the radio and Hirth was delighted – he could not have asked for better publicity for his training school.
Hanna was meant to be training as a medical student, but her head was now, quite literally, in the clouds. She could no more concentrate on her studies than she could resist the temptation to fly again – this time in a powered aircraft. She was studying medicine in Berlin and it happened that nearby was a flying school run by the German Air Mails. Based at Staaken, the school ran a course in flying sports planes and Hanna persuaded her father to pay for yet another set of lessons. By this point Herr Reitsch was despairing of his daughter achieving anything in her studies, but she swore she would stick to medicine if only he would let her learn to fly. In fact, she had plans to become a flying doctor in Africa, so she had to take a flying course, didn’t she?
There were a few more women at Staaken than at Grunau, though female friendships would never be a priority for Hanna. In fact, for most of her life she was quite a lonely individual; her relationships were professional and often with men, but they rarely developed into anything close. At Staaken she came to know Elly Beinhorn, five years her senior, who had recently returned from flying around the world. They were friendly enough at the time, though years later Elly did not warrant a mention in Hanna’s memoirs, The Sky My Kingdom . One person who did, however, was a young actor named Mathias Wieman, who had only recently appeared as a supporting actor in the German film Avalanche , ‘… with whom I soon formed a real flying friendship’, Hanna recalled.
Not all was happiness at Staaken. The years were ticking by towards Hitler’s catastrophic accession to power and the reek of politics was often in the air. Hanna was politically ignorant; in fact, politics was a topic that entirely failed to interest her. She had been raised a good German patriot and this she would remain without questioning it unduly. Honour, to her, meant loyalty, even when that